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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25115353">A Pandemic of Fear</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azulupei17/pseuds/Azulupei17'>Azulupei17</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Pandemics, Spoilers, Statements</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:15:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,086</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25115353</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azulupei17/pseuds/Azulupei17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Corruption begins to take over the world with a pandemic and the Archives go on lockdown. The other fears are still hungry though. And people still need to make their statements.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The tape recorder clicked on and the wheels started turning. Jon Sims glanced down at the noise and sighed. Something was about to happen. And it was never good. He was sitting in his office going over some statements. Mostly nonsense ghost stories. Something about a table floating, knocks behind the walls, shadow men, and more. But they all recorded just fine on his laptop. Nothing supernatural about them at all. Perhaps the people were lying or had hallucinations. It all reminded him of his first days as the Archivist. He chuckled grimly to himself. What a fool he was then. Trying to explain away those stories with drugs or hallucinations when some of them kept coming back. A shiver went down his spine as he recalled the Anglerfish from one of the first statements he recorded and the same monster on the stage in the Unknowing. Jon’s thoughts were interrupted when the door creaked open.</p>
<p>“Jon?” a voice called. Jon looked to the side at the door and Martin Blackwood stepped in. “Did you hear about all this yet?” Martin was holding a newspaper in his hand and the headline in big bold letters read “New Disease Emerging in China. Experts Warn About Danger.” Jon nodded.</p>
<p>“Yes, I did,” he responded. “New diseases are found every year so I don’t really see the whole cause for concern. However…” Jon gestured at the whirring tape recorder and Martin’s eyes widened.</p>
<p>“Oh, oh dear… does that mean…?” Martin trailed off and wrung his hands.</p>
<p>“It seems so,” Jon replied with another sigh. “The last time the Corruption attempted to spread a disease it was immediately contained by the authorities and the avatar was… dealt with by Adelard Dekker.”</p>
<p>“Oh right! But didn’t he die at the end?” Martin asked.</p>
<p>“Unfortunately, yes. A rip in his suit let the disease infect him. He used the last of his strength to tell Gertrude about what happened. Shame he died, he seemed to be very good at dealing with these sorts of problems. But we’re all going to die in the end, aren’t we?” Jon mused.</p>
<p>“I… I suppose so, but you don’t have to be so grim about it,” Martin admonished. His arms crossed and he leaned against the door frame.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry Martin. Didn’t mean to upset you.” Jon leaned back in his chair. “Let’s just hope that the Chinese authorities keep this under control.”</p>
<p>“Right,” was all Martin could say. “So, erm, were you recording a statement? Or…?”</p>
<p>“No, just sorting through some older ones that record just fine. Nothing supernatural about them for once. The recorder just appeared and started up before you entered,” Jon replied. </p>
<p>“Seems to be happening a lot around here. What do you think they are?” Martin asked. Jon could only shrug.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure, but I think it’s best we leave them for now,” Jon said. </p>
<p>“You’re not even a little bit curious?” Martin probed.</p>
<p>“Well, of course I am. Just… feels like it would be wrong for me to tear it apart. Besides, as far as we know they’re just ordinary tape recorders th-”</p>
<p>“That magically show up anytime something spooky is about to happen.” Martin interjected. </p>
<p>“Fair enough. But enough of that for now.” Jon got up out of his chair. “Didn’t you want to go out for tea somewhere?”</p>
<p>“Oh yes!” Martin’s eyes gleamed in the light. “There’s a wonderful little shop just down the road. I’m sure Elias wouldn’t mind us dipping out for a bit. But could you…?” Martin gestured to the tape recorder.</p>
<p>“Oh! Yes of course.” Jon turns and clicks the recorder off.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Engineered Curse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Statement of Emily Smith regarding their experience working in a virology lab in Chongqin China. Statment given January 12th, 2020. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, the Archivist.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The tape recorder clicked on and whirred to life. Jon adjusted his position in the chair and cleared his throat.</p>
<p>Statement of Emily Smith regarding her experience working in a virology lab in Chongqin China for the last several months. Original statement given January 12th 2020. Audio recording performed by Jonathan Sims, the Archivist. </p>
<p>Statement begins.</p>
<p>It’s all my fault. The world is doomed and I helped. It was supposed to be research. Supposed to be studying how to stop all those deadly viruses you hear about. We were manipulating DNA to learn about them and how best to destroy them. But it all went horribly wrong. It was fast and sudden and it’s all my fault and… I’m sorry. There’s been so much to process that I can’t tell how to put it all into words.</p>
<p>I recently graduated from Oxford University with a PhD in virology. I took to that subject like a fish to water. Viruses are incredibly fascinating things and it’s a shame people know so little about them. You know, most scientists don’t even classify them as living things. They’re just bits of DNA or RNA wrapped up in a protein shell. That’s all they are. Scraps of molecules pretending to be alive and killing our own cells to do it. They take over the cells in your body and force them to become factories to make more viruses until the cell literally explodes from the sheer number of new viruses inside them. Then those viruses go off and do the same to other cells in a cascade of virus particles. </p>
<p>The tricky bit about viruses is the reproduction cycle. Mistakes happen in the DNA code and slightly different viruses emerge from each cell. They stay close to the original, but they’re not quite identical. Those new viruses create different mistakes from there until you get an entirely new strain that functions entirely different from the original. That’s part of what made them so fascinating to me. Molecules so close to living that they can evolve over time. I needed to understand them better. Maybe I could help find a cure for HIV. Maybe I could find something to eradicate them forever. But… I guess that’s not what actually happened.</p>
<p>As I was getting close to finishing my thesis, my professor pulled me to the side. His name was Qiang Zhu. Smaller Asian man who was getting up there in years and he knew microbiology and virology like no one else. You should have seen him go on about Bacillus bacteria and their spore structure… Anyways, he started telling me about a research opportunity in China. A facility on the bleeding edge of virus research had an opening. They were looking at different antivirals and studying deadly viruses for cures. Highly competitive positions, but Professor Zhu said he helped fund and run the facility and he would put in a good word for me. He said I would certainly get a position.</p>
<p>And after graduation, I did.</p>
<p>I packed up and moved across the globe to Chongqin to start my research. It all went well at first. They supplied me with top of the line equipment and software. The lab was stocked with everything I could possibly need. I worked on so many different types of viruses they all blend together, but my personal project was to sequence the DNA of every type we had. I worked on flu virus, ebola, norovirus, even some unnamed ones discovered in the hot wet forests in the south of China. There was one type that caught my attention.</p>
<p>We called it Mortevirus. Yes. The same one you’ve been hearing about recently.  It was discovered in a small population of bats hidden in a cave near Wuhan. We examined it under an electron microscope. It had a crystalline head atop six spindly legs and a small injector that almost looked like it had been rimmed with teeth. It was odd though. That shape is typically associated with viruses that infect bacteria. Not bats. And it had the potential to cross over to human hosts as well. I was curious and worked tirelessly to learn how it ticked. Finally, we cracked it. The computer spat out strings of letters that made up the DNA code. </p>
<p>I recognized some of the patterns in the code. Sequences for the structures, letters that dictated its preferred host, but there were some that just didn’t make sense. They were genes from insects and worms mixed in. The computer had flagged them as contamination, but that couldn’t be right. We were always so careful with our samples that it was impossible for that to happen. I did wonder though… what would happen if those contaminants were deleted from the code? They just took up space. They didn’t seem to be actively contributing to the virus itself. I ran some simulations with those strings deleted and I… It was bad. Very. Bad. </p>
<p>The computer estimated the transmission rate to be one person could infect up to twenty. Compare that to the 1918 Influenza Pandemic where one person would infect. Just. Two. The mutation rate was incredible, practically barring any attempt to completely cure the virus. The virus would have been almost unstoppable. I discarded that work immediately. Tossed the paper in the shredder and scrubbed my computer clean of any trace of my own little experiment. I was horrified. No one should know just how bad that virus could have been. Except… it happened. </p>
<p>I still don’t understand how, but the virus mutated on its own. It must have. I don’t know how to manipulate genes. That takes decades of experience. And a lowly PhD graduate like me doesn’t have that kind of knowledge. I had just run some propagation experiments and was studying the mutations from mortevirus and found the same strain I had simulated. It wasn’t possible. Couldn’t be possible. I had to go down into the details and delete basically individual base pairs to get the supervirus I accidentally created. And then there it was. In the lab. Suspended in frozen tubes. I immediately ran to my manager to report. No time for email. If that somehow escaped the lab, it would be a disaster. </p>
<p>He assured me that the utmost precautions would be put in place. The projects on that virus would be put on hold and the accidental bioweapon would be destroyed. I was relieved but didn’t say that I had accidentally created this different strain in a simulation much earlier. I didn’t want to be responsible for the development. Even though the mutation had been natural, it would have looked like I was the one that made it. And it wasn’t me. </p>
<p>Eventually the buzz around the office died down. The mutant virus was destroyed and that was that. Until about a month later the Chinese CDC contacted our lab. A small village along the Yangtze River had gone quiet and initial reports were that the villagers had gotten sick. They needed an expert to go down and investigate further and I was selected to go. There were dozens of people more experienced than me, but Professor Zhu talked to me and said that a team would go with me to look into things. Of course, I was relieved, but I still didn’t understand why I was part of it.</p>
<p>As we approached we found a barrier blocking our entrance. Several people in full HAZMAT suits stood behind it and gestured to a tent on the side of the road. We didn’t want to risk infection ourselves so we pulled far away from them and entered the tent where we were briefed on the situation and we all suited up. </p>
<p>As we left the tent and approached the barrier I noticed how quiet everything was. Maybe I was used to the bustle of a larger city, but it was completely silent. No cars trundling past, no people talking except in hushed whispers. It was almost as if they were concerned about breaking the spell of silence that had fallen on the area. I couldn’t even hear birds or animals calling. The silence grew even heavier as we approached. The streets were utterly silent and still, almost as if the town was holding its breath. We broke off into pairs to search the houses for anyone still living.</p>
<p>I opened the first door and stepped inside. The door slid shut behind me, leaving me alone.</p>
<p>I’m more of a lab worker and probably unsuited to field work like this. But I think even the most hardened of people would have been ill at this sight. Corpses littered the floor. It had to have been a family of at least ten and they had all curled up together on a mat. They were covered in blood and flies and worms and god knows what else. They looked like they had been dead for some time. That was, until I heard one of them moan. It was a woman. Short black hair and skin so puffy and blackened and green it looked like it would split open at any moment. I think she just heard me come in. She reached out her arm to me from the pile of gore and filth that surrounded her.</p>
<p>She… she asked me to kill her. No. That’s not quite right. She begged me to kill her. Said she couldn’t take any more. I turned and opened the door as fast as I could, but I stopped. I wasn’t in that small village anymore. I know you won’t believe me, but I swear I was back in Chongqin. In the heart of the city. And I was alone. The room behind me had vanished and all that was left was a ransacked reception desk.</p>
<p>The streets were deadly silent and still. A wind blew and trickles of sweat poured down my face as I spun to look around. No one was there. It was like the entire city had died. I heard a noise down the street and I rushed down to take a look. Maybe someone was there. Maybe someone from the team was there with me. I turned the corner to see a wash of broken glass on the ground. The front of a convenience store had been smashed to pieces and a TV was babbling in the background. I got closer to take a look.</p>
<p>All that was playing was a recorded message. No news anchor or politician or even any sort of expert was talking live. All it said was this “Go home. Find your families. There is nothing we can do anymore. Be with your loved ones to the end.” I saw a newspaper lying on the ground with a headline about the death of England. The death of everyone there. A plague had come and wiped out the entire people. </p>
<p>An entire country! Dead in a matter of weeks! What kind of disease could do that? And then the thought came. It was mine. The disease I accidentally invented. How the computer simulation jumped into reality is still beyond me. But that’s all I could think about. If one person got sick and infected twenty in one day, it would spread through the population exponentially. Of course there’s all these other factors that determine how bad a disease gets but what else could it be?</p>
<p>I scanned the article intently and there it was. Mortevirus. My. Virus. I killed the planet. The entire human race. Dead. And god knows what else out there. I saw no corpses, but heard nothing beyond the wind and my own frantic heartbeat. I didn’t want to take my suit off in case the virus was still floating in the air, but I ran. I ran out of that store and back into the streets. I ran through the hollow city until my lungs burned and my legs gave out underneath me. My vision blurred and I cried out for help, but no one heard me. No one was there to hear me. The city was dead.  I could see spots in my eyes and static clouded my sight until I finally fainted from exhaustion.</p>
<p>The oxygen in my air supply must have gone out because the next thing I knew, I was back in the tent set up outside the quarantine zone. A few concerned doctors were shining pen lights into my eyes. They seemed to relax a bit when I blinked and started to move around. I sat up in the cot I was on and took a deep sigh of relief. It must have been just a horrible dream. I must have fainted in that room and the terror I felt bled into a nightmare about an extinction level event. None of it was real.</p>
<p>Until the doctors told me I had been gone for days. My partner saw me enter the home but then opened the door to find nothing. I had vanished. They found a few family members on the couch with nasty coughs and severe fevers, and they just gave me a look when I asked about a pile of corpses in the corner. Maybe it was all just some bizarre hallucination. Maybe it was all in my head. Or maybe it was a vision of the future. I can’t tell.</p>
<p>They said I exhibited no signs of the disease in the village and since its onset was so rapid, I was cleared to leave. Some of the team had managed to gather samples from the sick people and we brought it back with us to the lab.</p>
<p>We found some of the typical bacteria you see in everyone. But the mortevirus was there. The one I created. It shouldn’t have been possible. We take extreme precautions to be sure no virus escapes the lab. But it’s out there now. The vision I had of the family and the dead family may be a hallucination. Or it may be a prophecy. Maybe the virus will mutate to bring something truly terrible to the world. You must forgive me. It’s not my fault. I didn’t mean to doom the world. I didn’t mean to create something so terrible. But be prepared. This pandemic is coming. And the world needs to be ready.</p>
<p>Statement ends.</p>
<p>This… this one worries me. Martin had talked to me about mortevirus emerging in China and it appears that Emily played a part in creating it. She mentioned something about editing the genetic code of the virus itself and that the mutation can’t happen naturally. I’m inclined to agree with her. Someone in her research lab must be serving the Corruption to create a plague and used her to make it happen. That’s the only logical explanation. But so far it doesn’t seem to be a plague to wipe out the world. Maybe there-”</p>
<p>The door creaked open, interrupting Jon’s thoughts. He didn’t turn to look. “Yes Martin?”</p>
<p>“Oh! S-sorry! Were you recording?” Martin asked.</p>
<p>“Indeed. Someone came in to give a statement about the virus that’s sweeping through China. Apparently she accidentally created it and she had a vision that it destroyed the world,” Jon explained. Martin visibly paled and his knees shook. Jon glanced over and his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you all right?”</p>
<p>“No, not at all. It… it sounds like The Extinction,” was all he could say.</p>
<p>“Surely not,” Jon responded. “This is simply the fear of filth and disease taken to an extreme tha-” Jon was cut off.</p>
<p>“That happened to wipe out the entire human race. An extinction level event. It’s coming, Jon. Maybe not like this, but that power is growing and it’s going to get bad.” Martin shifted from foot to foot nervously and Jon gave him a warm smile.</p>
<p>“We’ll handle that when it gets here. But for now, we have other problems. This is the second time mortevirus has come up when I’ve been recording. It’s certainly significant,” Jon said. Basira leaned over from the other side of the doorframe.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah, I’ve heard about that,” she said. “Do you think the Corruption is attempting a ritual again?” Jon shook his head.</p>
<p>“No, not this soon. I mean, we dealt with Jane Prentiss three or four years ago and she was helping to build up to a ritual. Rituals take decades if not centuries to build up enough power to attempt one,” Jon said. Basira just put a hand on her hip and hummed.</p>
<p>“So you think she was the only flesh hive? Where did she even get it from?” Basira probed.</p>
<p>“I… can’t be certain,” Jon admitted.</p>
<p>“Then it sounds like I have some investigating to do. I’ll see you boys later.” Basira turned and walked off.</p>
<p>“I’ll keep an eye on mortevirus. We’ll see what happens with it soon,” Jon said. “But I don’t think it will be an extinction.”</p>
<p>“I just hope you’re right,” Martin said. Jon glanced down to see the recorder still running and clicked it off.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Pendulum's Thirst</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Statement of Mark Holmwell regarding his experience while under self-imposed quarantine. Original statement given February 13th, 2020. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, the Archivist.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The tape recorder clicked on without Jon noticing. He was in mid conversation with his direct boss Peter Lukas and Jon wasn’t paying attention to the table next to him.</p>
<p>“...a lockdown?” Jon asked. “We don’t even know how bad it’s going to get.” Jon’s eyes were narrowed at Peter. The pale man was dressed in a perfect pinstripe suit and he wore a large smile. </p>
<p>“Well, of course not. But it’s better to be prepared for any potential complications. Besides, the archives aren’t too bad. Martin himself lived here for several months if I’m not mistaken,” Peter responded. </p>
<p>“I suppose so,” Jon said with a hint of a growl in his voice. “But we don’t know anything about mortevirus. We’ve only had a handful of cases in London. Surely that’s not grounds for a total lockdown.”</p>
<p>“Under normal circumstances that would be true,” Peter said. He leaned against the doorframe. “But this is the Corruption we’re dealing with here. Don’t want to tempt the dread powers that be with vulnerable avatars of the Eye.”</p>
<p>“Not to mention it would serve you well,” Jon sneered. “The five of us in the Archives trapped and isolated from the rest of the world.”</p>
<p>“Now you get the picture,” Peter beamed. “You won’t be truly lonely with all of you here, but it does bring me joy ever so slightly.”</p>
<p>“And if we refuse?” Jon asked with a raised eyebrow. He was feeling more concerned now. Mortevirus was still spreading, but he didn’t want to feed the Lonely if he could help it.</p>
<p>“Then you can deal with this plague all on your own. Either you stay here in safety, or go outside and risk being infected. Your choice. Now I’ve got to pop off and check on dear old Martin. Poor boy must be ever so worried. I’ll be seeing you, even if you don’t see me.” Peter winked and then faded away into the background. Jon blinked as he could start to see through Peter until his reclusive boss finally disappeared. </p>
<p>He looked down to see the tape recorder running. He gave it a wry smile.</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m not a fan of him either. Popping in and out with no warning. Hardly ever know where to find him given he actually wants to be found.” Jon sighed and looked at the statement sitting in a neat pile next to the recorder. The teeth of the wheels gleamed in the light of the office. “I’m a bit hungry myself. Why don’t we satisfy our appetites?” Jon pulled the papers up and began to read.</p>
<p>“Statement of Mark Holmwell regarding his experience while under self-imposed quarantine. Original statement given February 13th, 2020. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, the Archivist.</p>
<p>Statement begins.</p>
<p>It’s all dirty out there. The sidewalks are covered in gum turned black by filth and time. Trash collects in the alleys and gutters. Rats poke their noses out of sewer grates and steal the garbage some people call food. The forgotten corners are painted in urine and feces and vomit and it all piles up into monuments of disease. It all disgusts me. I see people picking their noses. Touching door handles. Touching dirty buttons on the crosswalk. Touching their face and dogs and dirt and it’s all so much. The world is full of dirt and disease. And I can’t stand it.</p>
<p>When all this started, my friends thought I was going overboard. They thought when the mortevirus first emerged, it would wrap up neatly. I, on the other hand, ordered surgical masks, bulk hand sanitizer, and as many cleaning products as I could reasonably afford. I knew what that virus would become. I knew how bad it would get. And it’s not done yet. Oh no, not by any stretch of the imagination. We haven’t even hit the peak of this plague yet. So I keep on cleaning. </p>
<p>And sure, it hasn’t gotten too horrible here yet. Just a few dozen cases in London right now. But who knows how many became infected before those cases were quarantined. Who can say if the mortevirus is just floating in the air right this second and I’m dead already.</p>
<p>But I mean, it’s not just mortevirus I’m concerned about. There are hundreds if not thousands of other diseases just waiting beyond the door. Waiting for you to forget to wash your hands or clean your doorknob or touch your face. That’s all it takes. One simple act of carelessness and you can contract the worst diseases imaginable. Even just swimming in a lake can give you a truly horrible amoeba that literally eats your brain until you die. </p>
<p>The world outside is a terrifying place. </p>
<p>That’s why I stay inside. My flat is safe. Clean. I don’t worry about anything really getting in. I have so much bleach and hand sanitizer that my hands and every surface in my flat is virtually sterile. I have filtered air circulating, and don’t open any windows. Thank god I can do my work remotely. You don’t know what kind of mess I’d be if I still had to go in every day. Surrounded by people constantly coughing and wiping their nose and touching everything they can get their grubby filthy hands on.</p>
<p>I have my groceries delivered to me so I can cook on my own. Anything I need as far as cleaning supplies and household goods I order online. It’s really wonderful you know. I can stay inside and still get anything I could ever need right at my doorstep. No need to brave the outside world and face all the filth that lives out there. I still sanitize everything that comes in, just in case. You never know who touched the bags or containers. You don’t see the kitchen in a restaurant. You can’t see the microscopic bits of dirt and filth that cling to any surface they can find.</p>
<p>I don’t know how they can keep going. I don’t know how they stay healthy. </p>
<p>I suppose you want to know why I decided to brave the world and come here for my statement. I don’t suppose you’ll actually believe me, but it doesn’t hurt to try. I’m fully kitted with hand sanitizer, gloves and such to keep me safe until I return home. But I digress.</p>
<p>About two weeks ago I received a package on my doorstep. I checked my accounts and I hadn’t ordered anything that was due to be delivered today. Or found any sort of confirmation of receipt in my email. The package was a little heavy, but I managed to drag it inside. All I could see on the outside of the brown box was my name and address. No other fancy artwork or even a delivery company logo to tell me where it might have come from. After some quick knife work, I had the package cut open and inside I found a wonderful art piece.</p>
<p>It was a metal pendulum suspended underneath ornately carved wooden arms. The pendulum was long and had a blunted point at the end. Just underneath the pendulum was a basin to hold a packet of sand included in the package. I’ve seen these pendulum setups before and let me tell you they are fabulous. This one in particular had lovely rich red wood and the sand was this pure bone white. It was gorgeous. Depending on how you get the pendulum swinging, it draws these incredible swirls and patterns in the sand underneath. I needed something else to include next to my zen garden but it ended up taking center place on my coffee table instead.</p>
<p>It was mesmerizing. Once the pendulum started its journey back and forth, the sand below was carefully carved into these extraordinary patterns. Swirls that seemed endless. Complex repeating patterns formed by getting the pendulum swinging just the right way. Each new swing brought new patterns and I found myself obsessing over it. I suppose you could say I got hypnotized by those swirls.</p>
<p>One night just a week after I got the pendulum, I awoke to find myself standing in my living room. I was above the coffee table and the pendulum was… it was in my hand. And the point was digging into the palm of my other hand. I don’t know if it was the cold of the metal or the pain of the point digging into my flesh that woke me up, but I was awake then. I dropped the pendulum instantly and it swung wildly, scattering some of the sand across my white table. </p>
<p>Of course, I instantly cleaned up. I swept the sand into a dustpan and discarded the offending particles. Once I returned though, the pendulum was back to its graceful swinging. I found myself staring at it again. I felt better and so much less stressed watching it. Before I knew it, the sun was rising. I don’t think I fell asleep or lost time really. All I could do was stare at the swinging metal and watch it gently scrape the bleached white sand into new fractals. </p>
<p>The next night I wasn’t so lucky. When I awoke this time, my hand was bleeding. I froze as my blood coated the cold metal and flowed into these small crevices I hadn’t noticed before. I dropped it again, aghast at the gruesome sight and fetched a towel to stem the wound on my hand. I applied pressure to stop the bleeding and the pain faded into nothing after a moment. I pulled the towel away to inspect it, and found it wasn’t there anymore. The wound was gone. Just... vanished. I tried to rationalize it at the time. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it looked, but the pendulum had been covered in my blood. I went back to clean up the mess I thought was there. I couldn’t let my own blood stain the pure white of my apartment. It was unsightly, unsanitary, and it would drive me mad to have droplets cover my living room floor. </p>
<p>When I returned though, everything was clean. The pendulum swung softly in the frame and there was no trace of blood anywhere. My hand was fine. And the room was fine. Everything was fine. I didn’t sleep more that night.</p>
<p>Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was that pendulum. Maybe it was my worry over mortevirus. Or maybe it was something else entirely. But the next day as I was going about my business, I found a dark spot. Under the coffee table. Somehow the filth outside had wormed its way into my sanctuary. It… I was compromised. I had to take swift action. Mold would spread quickly. Dirt could get tracked through the carpet. And that dirt would harbor bacteria and viruses. Maybe start attracting insects. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let my safety be compromised. </p>
<p>I grabbed the carpet washer out of its dock and got to work. Shampooing the offending patch of crunchy black filth to dissolve it and vacuuming up the particles. I took out every bit of cleaning product I owned to make sure it would be gone. Of course, I wore a respirator. I wouldn’t compromise my safety in any way. But each attempt to clean it proved fruitless. In fact, it made it worse. The black had dissolved into red and just kept spreading like I had spilled a bottle of red wine into the pure white of the carpet. The blood red stain grew before my eyes as I tried everything I could. </p>
<p>Still the pendulum swung.</p>
<p>I used dish soap. I used bleach. I used carpet cleaner. I put on rubber gloves and tried to just wipe it away. Maybe the carpet wasn’t ruined. Maybe the filth would stop staining my beloved home. If I just cleaned well enough it would go away. I used up most of my paper towels. All of them were stained red. </p>
<p>Still the pendulum swung. </p>
<p>The red spread further through my carpet. It touched the leg of my coffee table and in swirls and endless patterns it circled up to the top. I watched transfixed as the trickle wormed its way from the four corners into the center. They writhed up the red wood of the stand, bathing it in this otherworldly shade of death. The wood soaked it all in until it dripped down the string to the pendulum. </p>
<p>The pendulum. Stopped.</p>
<p>The red ran down that cold metal and froze into a deadly point. It called to me then. A soft song of swirls and safety and dreams of cleanliness. I picked up the pendulum. And plunged it into my wrist. The blood frothed and boiled up the pendulum, soaking it through. I released it and let it draw its hypnotizing swirls in my own lovely shade of red. The red flowed down my hand and fingers, dripping into the bones of the pendulum. The swirls deepened. Calling me further. Calling me for more. I let it soak up more of me. The thirsty sand called for more. It demanded more sacrifice. </p>
<p>I… I’m not sure when it ended. I must have lost so much blood to the sand that I passed out. I came to on the floor, which was spotless once more. The pendulum was swinging gently above me and the sand was back to its original bright white. My wrist looked fine as well. No trace of the gouges I carved into myself to satisfy that deep thirst I saw. All was as it should be. Except I noticed the tip of the pendulum was slightly sharper than the last time. The swirls were starker and deeper in the sand. The shadows they cast looked deeper than any void I’ve seen. </p>
<p>My phone told me I had missed several calls from work and I found I lost three days. Three entire days scrubbed from my memory and I couldn't prove what happened to me. There was no trace of my wounds or any difference in the pendulum’s sand. That day I repackaged the pendulum and brought it here with me today. To give to you. I think you lot take things like this. </p>
<p>I don’t want it anymore. I just want my sanctuary back.</p>
<p>Statement ends.</p>
<p>According to the notes attached to this statement, artifact storage did indeed receive a pendulum from Mark Holmwell. The box had been firmly sealed with approximately four entire rolls of packing tape and it was packaged rather neatly inside. The pendulum itself was more or less how he described it. Long and heavy, but the end looked like it went through a sharpener. I’m surprised no one there at least got a cut. But that’s certainly for the best. The sand included with the pendulum was a deep crimson. Given the context of this statement, it may be his blood, and artifact storage has been advised not to open the packet. </p>
<p>It’s somewhat comforting that this statement has little to do with mortevirus beyond the victim being a hypochondriac. Perhaps this disease won’t get as bad as Mark fears it will. But perhaps he’s right as well. It’s too early to say and we currently know nothing about any plans that may be occurring. </p>
<p>There could be some avatar out there actively working to spread the virus. But it’s too early to say. Part of me would like to brush it all off and say that the pandemic would happen regardless and this is a natural occurrence. But Peter seemed to think that the Corruption was at work. Basira is still off investigating the flesh hives. I suppose all I can do is sit tight and wait to see what comes in.</p>
<p>End recording.</p>
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